Auguste heard Raoul's voice from somewhere behind him, among the spectators. "Hey, Bennett! Aren't you going to say anything? What's this got to do with the mongrel?" "Order!" Cooper rapped on his table with a carpenter's mallet. Bennett stood up a little uncertainly. "If it please your honor, I called Mr. Perrault to testify about what happened at Old Man's Creek. I don't see why counsel for the defense is bringing up this other incident." "All right, Your Honor," said Ford. "I have no more questions for this baby killer." Auguste saw sudden pallor in the part of Armand's face not covered by his beard. "Objection!" shouted Bennett. Ford looked pained. "What in Heaven's name is wrong with calling a spade a spade?" Cooper said, "Well, try to keep your language a little more elevated, Mr. Ford." "Certainly, Your Honor. I have no more questions for this infanticide." As Ford turned away to sit down, Auguste saw a quick little smile crease Judge Cooper's face, then disappear. He began to feel hope stirring in a heart that had been heavy ever since he came to Victor. This trial would not be conducted according to Lynch's law. But he still burned with hatred for Armand Perrault. He turned to watch Perrault go back to his seat. And his skin tingled. Just past the gaunt-faced Lieutenant Davis, Nancy was sitting, only two rows of chairs away. Her deep blue eyes widened as she looked at him. Her smile was, as Cooper's had been, just a brief shadow, but her face flushed, and she shook her head almost imperceptibly. Auguste understood. As Ford had said, if Nancy were to testify in his behalf, people must never know what they had been to each other. All their hatred for red men would come boiling up, and they would hang him for having intercourse with a white woman, if for nothing else. He nodded ever so slightly, tore his eyes away from hers. Woodrow was sitting beside Nancy, holding her hand. He had no need to hide his feelings, and gave Auguste a big grin. Auguste smiled back at him, but at the sight of Woodrow, longing for Eagle Feather was a knife in his heart. _I don't even know whether Eagle Feather is alive._ And grief for poor little Floating Lily crushed him. There were Frank and Nicole sitting together, with one of their smaller children--Patrick, Auguste thought--squirming on Nicole's lap. The sight of the baby made him want to weep. There were Elysee and Guichard, two old men sitting side by side. Grandpapa had a home of his own now, he'd told Auguste while visiting him, a small frame house on a hillside north of town, also built by Frank. And a young doctor named Surrey who had just moved into the county looked in on Elysee regularly. _Good that they have a new doctor here._ Too bad, though, Gram Medill had died. Of an infection, Auguste had heard, that she'd refused to let Dr. Surrey treat. Auguste saw many more spectators whom he did not recognize, people who stared back at him with hostility or--at best--curiosity.